80. Chapter 80

She would drink and she would dance and she would let their clumsy hands slide up and down her body because god she needed to feel something, didn’t she? Something other than mild impatience, mild repulsion, mild is this seriously what people write songs about because god I’d rather be in the stupid lab.

She would drink and she would drive and she would let them carry her to their bedrooms, to their couches, to their kitchen counters – whatever their fantasy was, never asking about hers – and she would try, she would try, and she would fail, like she always seemed to be failing, because when she bit her lip in pain or sighed because she was bored and this was tedious and couldn’t he tell she wasn’t into it he seemed smart couldn’t they just put on Grey’s Anatomy reruns and just talk? or gasped because he needed to slow down, she failed, she failed, because he couldn’t tell and she couldn’t tell him and wasn’t she supposed to be enjoying this anyway.

So when Maggie Sawyer watched her carefully as she took off her shirt; when Maggie Sawyer asked, “does this feel good, babe?” or “do you want me to take this off, Alex?” or “may I?” or “do you like that, beautiful?”; when Maggie Sawyer made sure she was soaking wet before slipping inside her, made sure she was desperate and writhing and begging before coming into her body, made sure she nodded and gasped and screamed and dug her fingers into Maggie’s hair before lowering her face between her legs to lick her until she came; when Maggie Sawyer paused and held her hand and said, “just tap my palm if you need me to stop, babe, okay?”; Alex Danvers was confused.

Confused and disoriented and, if truth be told, a little uncomfortable.

Because Maggie’s eyes were always watching her; Maggie’s ears were always straining for every sound of pleasure, for any sound of discomfort; Maggie’s voice was always asking; Maggie’s fingers were always checking; and it left her feeling overwhelmed, and it left her feeling scrutinized, and it left her feeling under a spotlight.

And she didn’t understand it at all. Because wasn’t sex about getting your partner off? Wasn’t she doing a good enough job of that? Why was Maggie hesitating so much? Was she bored? Was she trying to tell Alex that she could be more… exciting? More attractive? More… more?

She’s on top of Maggie when she finally says it; after Maggie stills her wrist with gentle fingers just as Alex is about to slip inside her; after Maggie looks up into her face with somber eyes and parted lips and asks, “You sure you want to, babe?”

“Am I not doing a good enough job?” Alex splurts in response, forcing the words out in a terrified rush.

Maggie freezes and Maggie scrunches her face and Maggie splutters. “What? Alex, you’re… god, no, you’re perfect, it – I’m confused. What… why are you asking, I’m… I am so turned on, Alex, can’t you feel how wet you make me? I was just… you don’t have to, that’s all I meant, I – what – “

“You’re always stopping and asking me if I’m good or if I really want to, so I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, like you’re trying to tell me something or imply that I should be doing something different, something… better.”

And if Alex was baffled before she is utterly bewildered now, because there are suddenly tears in Maggie’s eyes and Maggie looks like she’s about to break and she’s rolling Alex off of her and onto her side and she’s smoothing Alex’s hair out of her face and she’s biting her lip and she’s clearly trying to remember how to breathe, how to speak, how to function.

“Alex,” she finally chokes out as Alex’s heart races in confusion, in terror, in the sinking, familiar feeling that she’s failed, again.

“Alex, I’m so sorry, I’m not… babe, I’m not trying to passive aggressively correct you, I just… you don’t have to do anything, ever. You don’t have to let me touch you, or take your clothes off, you don’t have to go down on me or fuck me or hell, babe, you don’t have to let me kiss you. I just… I’m just trying to make sure you’re good because I couldn’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I ever touched you in a way you didn’t want, if I… I only want you to feel amazing, Alex, I… has no one ever…”

Alex looks like she does when she’s working out a particularly complex equation, and she shakes her head slowly, and Maggie’s chest wracks with exactly one sob before she takes a deep breath and cups Alex’s face with her hands.

“Well, my kill list just grew some. And so did my desire to kiss you. But only if you want. Do you? Want?”

And this time, Alex smiles wetly, and Alex sighs, and Alex doesn’t bother swallowing tears, because Alex knows she is, finally, cared for. Respected. Loved.

“Yes. Yes, I want.”